


Silver Lining

by Nebulad



Series: Run With the Hare || Hunt With the Hounds [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can’t flirt your way out of this,” Dorian argued, although it was a sweeter banter now. “I’ve dedicated the best years of my life to you, and now you’re obligated to care for me in my dotage.”</p><p>“I’m six months older than you,” Theros reminded him.</p><p>“Simply remember that I prefer butterscotch pudding, and if you hide medication in it I <i>will</i> know,” he continued. Theros smothered a snort against his collarbone, almost unwilling to admit that he was laughing at all. “I want to be sat in a chair by a window and surrounded by books. No one is allowed to bother me.”</p><p>“Your dotage is starting to sound remarkably like the first month of our relationship,” he teased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

“Say it.”

“Say… what, _amor?”_ Dorian snapped his book shut so hard that Theros started, straightening up from the half-nap he’d been taking on the man’s lap.

“Go on, you’ve been _looking_ all day— you’re nearly bursting with it. Just _say it,”_ he insisted. Theros stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to judge if he would be in more trouble for keeping his mouth shut or just having it out. In the end…

“You’ve got grey temples,” he said. Two years had passed— two impossibly _long_ years where Theros had traced the spidery loops of Dorian’s handwriting and started lingering in the nearly empty library just for the musty smell of old books that was conspicuously absent from his room suddenly— and Dorian had grown out his hair. He’d always mentioned wanting to. The only reason he kept it short was because of his flame magic, and he supposed that growing it out would signal to people that he was so confident in his own power that he was certain he would never set himself on fire. _I think I’d look dashing, anyway._

And so he’d done it.

And the temples were starkly grey.

“I hate you. I can’t _believe_ you would say something like that,” he said, slouching back against the headboard.

“No need to pretend to be angry at me. I’m embarrassingly fond of the look,” he assured him, resting his head on Dorian’s shoulder. His lover stood strong for only a few seconds more, then relented and relaxed so Theros could pull himself flush against him.

“As well you should be— this is your fault, after all. If I didn’t have to manually beat my own heart every time you went to the bathroom for fear of assassins and darkspawn and every other horror Thedas has thought to spit out at you, I’d have retained a bit more of my youth,” he groused, reaching up to pull his fingers through Theros’ hair.

“You’ve hardly withered,” he protested, and Dorian huffed.

“You can’t flirt your way out of this,” he argued, although it was a sweeter banter now. “I’ve dedicated the best years of my life to you, and now you’re obligated to care for me in my dotage.”

“I’m six months older than you,” he reminded him.

“Simply remember that I prefer butterscotch pudding, and if you hide medication in it I _will_ know,” he continued. Theros smothered a snort against his collarbone, _almost_ unwilling to admit that he was laughing at all. “I want to be sat in a chair by a window and surrounded by books. No one is allowed to bother me.”

“Your dotage is starting to sound remarkably like the first month of our relationship,” he teased.

“Well what else were you doing with those strong arms besides propping up books?” Dorian returned. He inclined his head because well. Nothing he would have _rather_ been doing anyway, and remembered very vividly wondering if the mage was even _looking_ at him or if he really was just being used as a shelf. He still wasn’t entirely sure, but comfortable in the knowledge that since then, there had been a few choice times where he _did_ manage to put down his books long enough to watch Theros lift things.

“Fair enough. Be sure to tell me when you begin getting old, _amor,_ and I promise I will care for you,” he said, shutting his eyes. Dorian made that embarrassed half-laugh noise that he used to make in the beginning, when he wasn’t so used to having someone walk bodily into a door because they were too busy making eyes at him to see the doorframe.

“Flirt,” he accused, his thumb running down Theros’ cheekbone.

“I’m only saying that if you’re not going to have the decency to _look_ old, then how am I supposed to know?” he asked, leaning up a little to kiss his jaw. He smelled of old books, like always— and a little bit of something Tevinter, maybe cologne but most definitely not southern— and he tilted his head so Theros’ mouth had more room to travel.

“What am I going to do when I’m home and you aren’t there to flatter me?” he asked, looking down and very blatantly providing the perfect opportunity to kiss his mouth. Never let it be said that the Inquisitor couldn’t read a signal— he kissed him, brushing his fingers through his hair and resting them on the nape of his neck. He hated this conversation— two whole years spent sitting in Dorian’s chair and _moping_ (as Cassandra so tactfully put it), and all they could seem to talk about now that they were together again was the next leaving.

“Come to your senses and ask me to come after you?” he asked, pulling away minutely enough that their noses were still touching. Words did not seem to want to help him, now, and he wasn’t like Dorian— he wasn’t so clever, and talking circles around people didn’t come so naturally. He was a man of action, and action never let him down so badly as talking did.

“We can only hope,” Dorian returned, before he gave up on talking as well.

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and you know I've been meaning to romance Dorian forever but only just got around to it. I'm still not 100% through it but it was so l a z y to be like "can I come with you?" "no" "why?" "because." like wow all right. Nice save, just like why Hawke is alone and at Skyhold in the first place.


End file.
